


Too Little Too Late

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, even a great love in itself is not enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Little Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> I was off again today, and bored out of my mind, so here you go. My second story in as many days. I won't be keeping this up, though. I hope I was able to get this thing a little more reader-friendly than the last! I tried, anyway! Once again, friends, this has no beta...read at your own risk 

## Too Little Too Late

by AngieJean

Author's disclaimer: They still aren't mine, damn it. You might think more stories would earn brownie points, though. Right? Right? 

* * *

The door closed with loud slam, as Jim Ellison kicked it with his foot, balancing easily, his arms full of paper sacks that held ingredients for a, hopefully, delicious dinner later that evening. 

"Sandburg?" Blair's Volvo hadn't been in its usual parking space when he arrived, but he had irrationally hoped that his roommate would be waiting as he came in anyway. 

Wrestling the bags onto the counter, he extended his senses, searching, and not finding the familiar heartbeat. Extending his sense of smell informed him that Sandburg hadn't been home since they had left for their respective jobs that morning. 

Jim frowned. It wasn't unusual for Blair to have late hours at the University, but he had missed his partner at the station. Not that he had really needed him for anything... 

Blair had called and asked him specifically that morning, saying that he had late classes, as well as office hours, and exams to grade, but he hadn't wanted to leave his Sentinel without a Guide for the afternoon if he was going to be doing anything dangerous. 

Jim had assured him the greatest danger he faced today was suffocating under the mountain of paperwork that had somehow managed to breed on his desk. 

Which was true. The day had been leisurely, calm, and damn near idyllic, really. 

He had been bored out of his mind, and wishing desperately for the ball of energy he called his partner, inside of fifteen minutes. 

_Oh, stop it, Ellison. You knew damned well that he wasn't going to be home. He told you he wasn't going to be home. So why are you so disappointed that he isn't home?_

No specific reason. He had just...missed him. Jim moved through the kitchen, putting the groceries up, and pulling out the ingredients for a chicken rice stir fry, one of the compromises they had reached between the beef that Jim would have liked, and the meatless that Blair would have liked. He smiled fondly. 

Sometimes he had to wonder what he had done all his life without someone to nag him at least once a day about his cholesterol intake. 

His hand slowed in the middle of chopping the bell peppers. Maybe he should just call Blair at the University... just to see when he would be home so it would still be hot. 

_No. He's a grown man. He can come and go as he pleases._

His hand sped back up again, and in seconds, he had diced the last of the pepper, and was reaching for another. 

_But why go to all this trouble if he's not even going to be home until 1am or later. You could just call him, and save yourself some work._ The hand slowed again, and this time, it didn't speed back up. Almost mechanically, he dried his hands, and reached for the cordless phone, all the while, calling himself ten different kinds of an idiot. 

"Blair Sandburg." The terse voice was completely unlike his partner, and Jim frowned slightly. 

"Hey, Chief. Everything all right?" 

"Yeah, man. Everything's fine." Jim blinked slightly That was it? No breakneck recitation of the incredibly busy/productive/crappy day he had had? No questions on how Jim was? How his senses were? 

"Jim? You still there, man?" 

"Uh, yeah, Chief. I was just wondering when you were going to be home, is all." 

"Why?" There was an odd undertone to the flat question, and Jim narrowed his eyes. 

"I'm fixing stir-fry, and I wanted it to be hot when you get home." Jim was a firm believer in "The best defense is a good offense." When Blair spoke again, his voice was a good deal softer, though it still wasn't anywhere near his normal ebullient self. 

"You didn't have to do that, Jim. It was my night to cook." 

"I know," Jim said reasonably. "But I got off early, and you worked late, so it was no problem." There was silence on the line for a long moment, then, finally, 

"Thanks, Jim." The voice was steady enough, but something in it was still setting off alarm bells all over the place. "I had to take over Richard's class unexpectedly this afternoon. I'll probably be home in about an hour and a half." A small fissure of alarm spiked through Jim. Richard Gregory was a fellow TA, and a good friend of Blair's. His best friend, Lance Updike, had been killed in a car accident about a month before, and Blair had been worried about Richard, who had seemed to withdraw from his friends, taking comfort in nothing, and walking around in a daze most of the time. Several times, Blair had tried to draw Richard out, and get him to show some interest in life again, but nothing had worked so far. Now, with Blair's words, the worst case immediately sprang to mind. 

"Chief, Richard's not..." 

"No. He didn't kill himself," Blair said sadly. "Look, I really need to get this last class taken care of, then I'll come home. I don't want to talk about this right now." 

"Okay, Chief," Jim said softly. "I'll see you about seven. 

"See you." Jim hung up the phone, and went back to chopping vegetables thoughtfully. 

At ten minutes 'till seven, Jim heard the sound of Blair's car turning onto Prospect, and he walked over, and put the finishing touches on the table settings, wanting more than anything to light candles, but knowing it would be too much. Moving back in the kitchen, he pulled the food off the burner, and moved it, covered, to the back of the stove to wait. 

Hearing the soft ding of the elevator, he walked over, and got a beer, reaching the door at the same time as Blair, and pulling it open just as he was reaching out with his key. 

Somehow, he just didn't get the same shock value as he did with Simon. Sandburg wasn't surprised at all. 

"Here you go, Chief." Sandburg took the beer wordlessly, hung up his coat, and dropped his laptop on the coffeetable as he walked in to flop down on the couch. Jim could have been angry at the perceived brush-off, and sulked because of the unnoticed dinner table, but four years with this man had taught him how to read the fine print fairly well. Blair wasn't angry, or belligerent, he was sad. 

Four years with this man had also taught him something else. It was all too easy to let your mouth run away without your brain, and hurt someone you care for deeply. 

Jim Ellison prided himself on the fact that, after all this time, he had finally learned the basics of when to sit, and keep his mouth closed. 

"Dinner's ready. You probably didn't have time to eat anything today, did you?" Blair looked up at him a little blankly. 

"Um, no. Not really." Jim nodded, and went back in the kitchen, leaving his friend sitting on the couch, looking out the window quietly. 

"Come on. Dinner's ready, Chief." Blair sat still for a moment, then, finally, got up, and headed for the table. Jim was dying to ask him what was going on, but he refused to push him. Blair needed to talk about it in his own time, and not before. The meal, which had smelled so good while he was cooking it, had no taste to the Sentinel, and he ate mechanically, trying to refrain from staring at his Guide the whole time, and willing him to start talking. 

At long last, the tense silence was broken by Blair scooting his chair back, and taking his dishes to the sink. They washed and dried together easily, falling into a comfortable, and familiar pattern, until finally, there was nothing left to do, but go back in the living room, and talk about it. 

By mutual, unspoken agreement, they took their seats at either end of the couch, and Jim flipped the TV on, with the volume low. As he changed channels aimlessly, Blair spoke in a voice so soft that it was almost a whisper. 

"You remember when I first told you about Richard?" Jim blinked a moment, trying to think back, and place the time. 

"Yeah. He had just started, and you came home, and said you spent your entire lunch break just talking to him. You said he needed a good friend." Blair was silent for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. 

"Yes. He did need a friend, and he did need someone to talk to. Badly. But I didn't tell you what it was he needed to talk about Jim." Blair trailed off, leaving Jim looking at him, and not even trying to hide his confusion. What the hell did this have to do with Blair taking over Richard's class today? And what the hell was making him so sad? 

"So what was it? What did he need to talk to you about?" Blair sighed, and shifted restlessly, his body all but telegraphing the fact that he didn't want to talk about it, but he did want to talk about it at the same time. 

"Richard was in love, Jim. He was so, desperately in love, like I've only seen one other time in my life." Jim couldn't see what the problem was, and it obviously showed in his expression. "He was in love, and he couldn't tell the person. He was too scared of ruining the friendship that they did have. He didn't want to lose his friend, so he lost his lover before he even had one." Blair now actually sounded close to tears, and Jim looked over at him in alarm. 

Blair was steadfastly refusing to meet his eyes. 

"So why doesn't he just tell her he loves her?" Blair closed his eyes, and shook his head minutely, as if in exasperation that the lesson wasn't being grasped by the one student he really wanted to reach. 

"It's not a her, Jim. It's a him. Richard was in love with Lance." His head leaned slowly back against the couch cushions, and his eyes closed. "God, he loved him so much. I spent the last six months trying to get him to tell Lance how he felt, but he was always too scared. Thinking it wasn't a good time. He'd do it tomorrow. It was just too much to risk. 

And after Lance died, he was actually able to convince himself it was worth it. At least he had been given Lance's friendship for as long as he had him..." Raw pain twisted Sandburg's elegant features. 

"If that's the way he felt, then why the problem now, Chief? What happened?" 

"Richard was going through Lance's personal belongings for his family, since they couldn't make it up here from New Mexico just yet. He found his journal, Jim. Lance was in love with Richard. He had agonized over asking him out, but he didn't want to ruin their friendship, so he did nothing. They both did nothing. 

"When Richard found the journal, and read it, he had some kind of a breakdown. He stayed in Lance's apartment until his sister got worried, and came looking for him. He wouldn't even put the journal down, and he hasn't said a word since they found him. His parents have taken him out of school, and back to Connecticut for a while. The rest of the TA's are splitting his classes until they can get a new one hired on." 

Jim didn't know what to say. He looked over at Blair, speechless. The sheer, cruel, irony of it was not lost on him. For them both to have loved each other and- 

"For lack of a word said from either of them, they lost out on what could have been the greatest love of their lives." 

"What was the other time?" The whispered question made Blair jump, and his heart started to pound, as Jim looked at him calmly. 

"What other time? What are you talking about?" 

The questions came out just a little too fast, and his heart continued to pound in his chest, as loud as a jackhammer. 

"You said you'd only seen a love like that one other time, Chief. What time was that?" Jim's arm stretched along the back of the couch, and towards Blair's shoulder, but didn't, quite, touch. Blair sat, mute. Looking, but trying not to look at Jim. 

"And should your love end up like Richard's, Chief? Will yours be too little, too late?" Blair looked over at him, meeting his eyes, finally. 

"Mine, Jim." Blair whispered softly. "The only other love I've ever seen to match his, is my love for you." Jim only had to move forward just a little more, and his hand raised slightly. 

Blair flinched a little, and his eyes flickered. Jim lowered his hand slowly, and cupped along the side of his face, his warm palm cradling his cheek, and eyes opened wide, showing his love easily, where his words always tended to fail him. 

"I would never hurt you. I love you, Chief." Blair pulled back, just a little. 

"Blair. My name is Blair. You almost never call me by my name, and I want to hear it from your mouth." 

"Blair," Jim echoed softly, and the hand cupping his cheek, slid around to the back of his head, pulling him forward gently. "I love you, Blair. My Own." His mouth breathed across Jim's softly, before Jim surprised him, and pulled him over and up, until he rested along the solid length of Jim's muscular frame. 

Long arms wrapped around him, and he found himself positioned with his back against Jim's chest, looking out the window, lying on top of his soon-to-be-lover, and staring at the stars on a rare, clear Cascade night. 

"You won't ever leave me, will you Jim?" The question was spoken softly, so as not to break the spell they had cast. 

"Never," he whispered, knowing the futility of such a promise, especially in his line of work. Only it didn't sound futile at all. It sounded truthful. 

"I never wanted to wake up one morning, and find that it had been too little, too late for me, Jim. I love you so much, I thought it was worth the risk." 

"It was," Jim agreed. "Having the two of us together is worth almost any risk." 

Blair sighed again, and grieved for his two friends that would never know the happiness he would. But there would never be the great reward if there was never the great gamble taken, and if you didn't step off the cliff, there was no way for your beloved to catch you. 

They fell asleep in each other's arms, looking up at the night time stars. 

Finis 


End file.
